“Ma’am?”
“Is there anything amiss at your house?”
“No, ma’am, not as I knows of. Miss Erminie is crying, but I aint heern no bad news.”
Britomarte ran up to her room, and put on her bonnet and shawl, and came down and joined the old servant, and started for the parsonage. But her fleet steps soon distanced his feeble ones, and she arrived at the house first, and hurried immediately to the library, where she found Erminie in tears.
“What is it all, my dearest?” inquired Miss Conyers, throwing off her bonnet and shawl, and taking Erminie in her arms.
“Oh, Britomarte, I have no courage at all when the test comes,” sobbed Erminie, dropping her head upon the bosom of her friend.
“But what is it, dearest?” again inquired Miss Conyers, with a misgiving heart.
“Oh, can’t you imagine? Oh, Britomarte, the brigade has marching orders at last. It is to leave in the boats this evening.”
Even Britomarte for an instant reeled under the blow, but in another she rallied and replied:
“That is well. We don’t want any more camp heroes, Erminie.”